


Fire Bound

by LePipi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mentions of past abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePipi/pseuds/LePipi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon sets off to reconnect with his family and finds himself stranded and lost. A stranger offers his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Bound

It was supposed to be a good experience. A healthy one. He was supposed to knock on the door of bad memories and be greeted by a humbled father who though not explicit in his intentions to recover the relationship with his son, would show him kindness and urge Asha to make him feel welcome, who in turn would gnarl some witty remark, but smile with trepidation in his direction and maybe even mother would open her door to peak at her son, if not to kiss and hug him, at least to make it known that he still held a place in her ever crumbling heart.

None of that.

Asha was gone. She had been for quite some time. What he could gather from the spitting vitrol of his father’s lips is that she went overseas for a job. Balon didn’t recognize him at first. Said he looked like a druggie. Told him a slap of lipstick would make him a wasted whore. Mother was not to be seen. He tried to question about her, but that was met with resistance. As in, why would a traitor care for his mother? Didn’t he have a new one? The Stark bitch? Did he eat the spider webs between her legs for breakfast? Is that why he was so skinny?

A whole lot of that, and there he was.

11 pm walking aimlessly around a town best left forgotten, a bag over his shoulder and little to no money. He probably had enough to settle in a motel somewhere. He was sure he could calculate what the whole ordeal would amount to, money wise.

And yet, he continued walking. Directionless and mindless.

He didn’t want to concentrate on anything because any _thing_ meant _something_ meant _reality._ Which he didn’t need right then. He needed nothing. _Nothing_ was attainable. He’d had a close brush with _nothing_ once. If it weren’t for Robb and Jon he would have-

And there they were again. Even in his thoughts, in his fantasies of _nothing_ they had to show up with horror on their faces, _disappointment, anger, betrayal, fear…_

Something bumped into him harshly.

Or, actually, Theon bumped into something.

A low grown branch of ironwood. The needle quality of the leaves scratched against his arm, making him wince. It woke him, at least.

Giving a quick look around, he realized he’d run off on the highway. Fear made its way up his spine and at the base of his hair. He gave a quick jog to where he came from, and realized he forgot which way he came and where to he was going.

The tree. It was the tree’s fault.

If it hadn’t hit him he would have known. If _he_ hadn’t-

No, it wasn’t his fault.

None of it was.

Ned said so. Robb said so. Jon did too. Even Asha told him so, once.

A pair of blaringly bright lights made him jump back to the tree line. A car was approaching. Did any other car pass this road while he was having his little episode? How long had he been there? What was the time? Did he pass any signs? Did today happen?

It drove past him.

Reeled backwards.

To him.

He couldn’t really tell the color, nor model. It might have been black, or it might have just been the all consuming darkness that did it. There was still a sleek shine to it, even there. Maybe the stars did that?

“Are you on drugs?” The voice reeled him back, but the sight shocked him back into existence.

Corpse white.

The boy, no, he was stubbled heavily, _the man_ was corpse white in the heavy black of the surroundings. Lips and eyes rimmed red, it didn’t help with the general loudness of his look. But the eyes were the most peculiar. The color people think water is. It’s not blue. It’s beyond blue.

“Excuse me?” He heard the words, just didn’t register them.

“Drugs? Did you take any?” The voice too. Eerie.

“No. No, I’m not a druggie.”

His voice must have had some sound to it, because the man’s look changed to something… Something else.

“Need a lift?”

“I… I don’t know?” Dumb. He was so, so dumb.

“Are you lost?” At least the man seemed to be working faster than him.

“I think so.” He still wasn’t.

The other chuckled, not unkindly, and turned ahead, as if to contemplate his next words.

“Do you have any idea where you would like to be?” He turned again to him, amusement written on his face.

Honestly, he didn’t. He didn’t want the Starks right then. And besides them, he had nowhere to be. Just imagining the call he would have to make…

‘Hey, Ned, it’s the son you never wanted, come pick me up from the father that never wanted me, and hey, guess what, he still doesn’t, weird, right?’

“A motel would be nice.”

His eyes looked at him steadily, unblinking in their purity.

“I can get you an apartment for the night.”

Theon stood, measuring the given offer and the man beneath him.

No other car ran pass them for the entire exchange.

“Alright.”

 

 

Theon sat in the leather seat, basking in the warmth of the car. He didn’t realize he was shaking until he got comfortable enough to process the surroundings. The seat felt weird though. As if it were entirely new. Squeaky. The rest of the car was kept spotless, even though there were obvious dents and faded colors to suggest age. Age handled with a lot of care, though.

“What’s your name?” He finally thought to speak.

“Ramsay. Bolton.” He enunciated his last name in a bold manner. The general stiffness of his look didn’t really speak of confidence though.

“I’m Theon.”

“Just Theon?” Ramsay prompted with an upturned lip.

“Greyjoy.”

“Never heard of you. Or yours.” It would have come as a nonchalant jibe, but the way his brows dropped, it seemed the realization didn’t sit well with the man.

“Why would you?”

The man seemed to struggle a bit with the question.

“Em… Not to sound grandiose, but my father owns the Dreadfort. And a lot of other… Buildings. It’s sort of a necessity to know everyone around.” Surprised, Theon did make the connection. It might have been a long while since he last saw this place, but the memories were there.

The Dreadfort was a gated community, that to his middle school self seemed like a ghoulish castle. In actuality, the houses were just not brightly coloured and there were too many trees and never enough sun.

“I think I remember. It’s the spooky place, right?” His jokes were lame and Theon was lame.

And yet, Ramsay chuckled.

“Yes, I suppose it is. Gave me this wicked tan, though.”

Theon giggled then, the sound escaping him in ugly little bursts.

Ramsay turned sharply at the sound, eyes off the road and on Theon.

His eyes were too intense.

“Sorry.” His laugh was genuinely nasty, it really was.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

Theon gave an apologetic smile and turned forward in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. Well, the whole day had been less than ideal, this was nothing compared to what happened before.

And before that.

Seemed like his whole life was a big _Before._ He wanted to be the _After._ The new and improved Theon. Not a Greyjoy and not a Stark. Theon Somethingcool. Theon with a college degree and a steady job and loving partner and a house of his own. And a name of his own.

Alas, the degree was two semesters, two failed classes and 5 exams waiting. The steady job was him being the Stark’s bitch, the loving partner was that girl about 5 weeks ago, on some random Thursday, and a barely there handjob.

Awful. Everything. Just awful.

“Hey.” The voice jolted him back again.

“Yeah?”

“What were you doing on the highway? Alone.” He spoke weird. Not bad, just weird. Deliberate and kind of… Well, _intense_.

“Had a… Made a dumb decision. Ended up there. I didn’t thank you, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t. And people don’t just end up on highways. Unless, something bad happened. You want to go the police or something?”

“No, nothing bad happened. Nothing _police_ bad. Family quarrels, is all.” Ramsay suggesting police made him feel a tad bit safer. Silly notion really, but the whole day left him feeling violated, and now he was in a stranger’s car off to a stranger’s apartment, with a switchblade in his boot and a phone in his pocket for protection.

“Some family quarrels ought to have police involved.” The statement came void of emotion.

“Though I don’t trust the pigs. Nasty little shits.”

Theon chuckled involuntarily, more out of having to do something, rather than finding humor, but Ramsay shot a warm smile his way, and spread through Theon.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> First thramsay fic wohooo! And now onto serious business:  
> I have three planned out ways to carry this story out!   
> first: Theon and Ramsay find a healthy way to be together  
> second: Theon is happy but Ramsay might go bad  
> third: Theon is happy and Ramsay goes bad 
> 
> If you're interested in reading this out, feel free to give me your opinion :D


End file.
